«Olya.» Sveta's reaction was the right one. She put her arm around my shoulders, gave the waiter an indignant look and led me back into the restaurant.
Just then the boy passed us, sobbing loudly as he squeezed his way through the greedy, curious crowd back to his mother. They were trying to get her away from the body—she'd taken advantage of the confusion to bend back down over her husband and start shaking him:
«Get up! Gena, get up! Get up!»
I felt Svetlana shudder at the sight and I whispered:
«Well? Do we exterminate the Dark Ones with fire and the sword?»
«Why did you do it? I would have understood without that!» Svetlana whispered furiously.
«What?»
We looked into each other's eyes.
«Then it wasn't you?» Sveta whispered uncertainly. «I'm sorry; I believe you.»
I realized then just what a deep hole I was in.
The investigator didn't take any particular interest in me. I could see from his eyes that he'd already made his mind up—death from natural causes. A weak heart, drug abuse, whatever. He couldn't be expected to feel any sympathy for a man who frequented expensive restaurants.
«Was the body lying in this position?» «Yes, just like that,» I confirmed, wearily. «It was terrible!» The investigator shrugged. He couldn't see anything really terrible about a body, especially one that wasn't drenched in blood. But he was condescending.
«Yes, a terrible sight. Was there anybody else nearby?» «Nobody. But then a woman appeared, the man's wife, with their child.»
I was rewarded with a crooked smile for my deliberately disjointed statement.
«Thank you, Olga. Someone may be in touch with you again. Not planning to leave town at all, are you?»
I shook my head rapidly. The militia was the very last thing I was bothered about right then.
But I was bothered by the sight of the boss sitting unobtrusively at a table in the corner.
The investigator left me in peace and went to talk to «the dead man's wife.» Boris Ignatievich immediately made straight for our table. Nobody paid any attention to him; he was obviously protected by some mild distraction spell.
«Now you've done it,» he said simply.
«Us?» I asked, just to get things clear.
«Yes. Both of you. But especially you, Anton.»
«I followed all the instructions I was given,» I whispered, feeling furious. «And I never laid a finger on that magician!»
The boss sighed.
«I don't doubt that. But knowing the situation, how could you, a member of the Night Watch staff, be so stupid as to go off after a Dark One on your own?»
«Who could have foreseen this?» I asked indignantly. «Tell me who!»
«You could. After the unprecedented measures we've taken to disguise your identity. What were your instructions? Never be left alone for a moment! Eat and sleep with Svetlana! Take your showers together! Go to the bathroom together! Every single moment you had to be…« The boss stopped and sighed.
«Boris Ignatievich,» Svetlana unexpectedly put in. «None of that matters anymore. Let's try to think what we can do now.»
The boss looked at her in surprise and nodded.
«You are right. Let's try to think. First of all, the situation is really catastrophic now. Before, any suspicion of Anton was purely circumstantial, but now he's literally been caught red-handed. Don't shake your head like that, Anton! You were seen standing over a body seconds after its death. The body of a Dark Magician, killed in the same way as all the previous victims. The Day Watch will appeal to the Tribunal for your memory to be read.»
«That's very dangerous, isn't it?» asked Svetlana. «But at least it will prove Anton isn't guilty.»
«Yes, it will, Svetlana. And in the process the Dark Ones will acquire all the information Anton has had access to. Do you realize just how much the Watch's senior programmer knows? Some things he may not even be aware he knows, when he just glanced at the data, processed it, and forgot it. But the Dark Ones have their own specialists, and when Anton comes out of that courtroom—assuming he survives having his mind turned inside out—the Day Watch will know about all our operations. Can't you see what will happen? Our teaching methods, the way we look for new Others, the way we analyze combat operations, our networks of human informers, our casualty lists, our employees' personal files, our financial plans…«
They were talking about me, while I just sat there as if I had nothing to do with what was going on. It wasn't a question of frankness, it was simpler than that: The boss was consulting with Svetlana, a novice magician, and not with me, a potential magician of the third grade.
If I compared the situation with a game of chess, it was insultingly simple. I was a rook, an ordinary officer of the Watch, and Svetlana was a pawn—but a pawn about to become a queen.
And for the boss all the bad things that could happen to me meant nothing compared with the chance to give Svetlana a little practical lesson.
«Boris Ignatievich, you know I won't allow them to read my memory,» I said.
«Then you'll be found guilty.»
«I know. I swear I had nothing to do with the death of these Dark Ones. But I don't have any proof.»
«Boris Ignatievich, what if we suggest they only check Anton's memory for today!» Svetlana exclaimed joyfully. «That would solve everything, they'd be convinced…«
«The memory can't be sliced up like that, Sveta. It spills out all in one piece. Starting from the first moment of life. With the smell of mother's milk, with the taste of the amniotic fluid in the womb.» The boss was speaking very emphatically now. «That's the problem. Even if Anton didn't know any secrets. Imagine what it's like to remember absolutely everything and go through it all again! Swaying in that dark, viscous liquid, the walls closing in on you, the glimmer of light ahead, the pain, the choking sensation, the struggle to survive your own birth. And so on, moment by moment—you know how when you're dying your whole life passes before your eyes? That's exactly what happens when they turn out your memory. And at the same time, somewhere deep inside, you still remember that all this has already happened. Can you understand that? It's hard to hold on to your sanity.»
«You say that,» Svetlana said uncertainly, «as if…«
«I've been through it. But not in an interrogation. More than a century ago. The Watch was still studying the effects of exposing and reading the memory, and a volunteer was required. Afterward it took them about a year to restore me to normal.»
«How?» Svetlana asked curiously.
«With new impressions. Experiences I hadn't had before. Foreign countries, unfamiliar food, surprise meetings, unfamiliar problems. And even so…« The boss smiled wryly. «I still sometimes catch myself thinking: What is all this—reality or just memories? Am I living it or lying on a crystal slab in the Day Watch office while they unwind my memory like a ball of string?»
He stopped speaking.
There were people sitting at the tables around us, waiters dashing around. The crime scene team had taken away the body of the Dark Magician, and some man, evidently a relative, had come for the widow and the children. Nobody else seemed to be affected by what had happened. Quite the opposite, in fact. There were more customers, with bigger appetites and a greater zest for life. And nobody there was taking any notice of us: The boss's casually cast spell made them all look away.
What if all of this had already happened?
What if I, Anton Gorodetsky, systems administrator at the Nix Trading Company, and also a Night Watch magician, was lying on a crystal slab covered with ancient runes? And my memory was being unwound, examined, dissected by someone—it didn't matter who, Dark Magicians or a joint tribunal of both sides?